Amnesia
by Coretta
Summary: When you get kicked out of the Order, lose all your memories and then make some new ones with only Death Eaters for company, you really can't help going Dark. ABANDONED FOR NOW.
1. Chapter One

**|| Amnesia ||**

Written by Coretta

**|| Before you being reading ||**

There are a few things I should say before you start the story. This story (if I continue it, which will all be decided on whether you reviews are favourable or not) is a Hermione/Voldemort one. Although the first bit of interaction is Hermione/Draco, it will be her with our own Dark Lord.

We're going to ignore the Deathly Hallows and obviously the Epilogue, as well.

I'll try as hard as I can to keep everyone in-character, but Hermione will have to change. She'll lose her memories and then gain new ones surrounded by Death Eaters, so this will of course change her personality. I'll keep some aspects the same, but lots will be changed. Don't like, don't read.

I'm sorry, but I absolutely hate it when people urge me to update. A little note at the end saying 'please update soon, I'd love to read what's coming next!' would suffice. I really don't want to see any 'UPDATE NOW OR ELSE I WILL ADFLAJKDKFJSD BECAUSE I AM AN IMPATIENT GIT'. I update in my own time (I will always update, even if it takes 6 months to get a chapter out).

Praise and constructive criticism is always welcome! I'll never tire of trying to get better, but if you're going to just flame and flame but not offer advice, don't waste your time.

One last thing. As I don't have a beta and have to rely on myself for this, I'd really appreciate if you guys pointed out mistakes in grammar and spelling just at the end of your reviews, so I can go back and fix anything up.

Thank you guys! Hope you enjoy it. 3

**|| Chapter One ||**

Hermione Granger sat on her bed, her eyebrows furrowed. Her legs were crossed, Indian-style, and she was huddled underneath a thick, scarlet blanket. Outside the window, it was cold and dreary; a thin layer of snow was coating the trees and grounds outside the Burrow. She paid the gloomy landscape no mind, engrossed in her own thoughts.

_Should I, or should I not?_ The question had been echoing around in her mind since last night, and it was starting to give her a headache. It didn't help that she hated the weather as well, and was freezing her toes off. Releasing a sigh, she opened the crumpled parchment in her fists, and re-read it again.

_To Hermione Granger,_

_I realise I'm the last person you'd want to hear from, so I'll start by asking that you don't throw this away before you have read it through. _

_I've found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I want out. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. I can give you information, money, anything. I just need you to help me. I know you must think me an impersonator – after all, I never thought I would be asking help from a – _here, it looked like the beginning of the word 'mudblood', but it was scratched off_ – muggleborn – but I ask that you believe me. I need your help._

_If you would deign to hear my side of the story, I'd like to meet with you tomorrow at noon at the Witches' Brew pub, located in Knockturn Alley. I'm sure there will be less chance of us being found in a compromising position there._

_I know I'm a wanted man. I hope you'll not divulge the information of my whereabouts tomorrow to the authorities if you decide to not make the effort to come and hear me out._

_D.M_

She supposed he had ended the letter with his initials to give him some measure of anonymity, but it did little. The big Malfoy crest was quite hard to miss at the very top of the parchment. As soon as she had seen it, she had been tempted to burn it – the Muggle way, too, just to spite him – but she had been curious as to what Draco Malfoy would want with her. Now, she regretted her decision; she wished she had never read it.

_Should I, or should I not?_ It should have been straightforward, really. It was obviously a trap. She would throw the letter in the fireplace downstairs, and be done with it. Forget about it. Erase it from her memory.

Yes, that was what she had decided to do two hours ago, and yet she couldn't bring herself to leave the room.

Maybe it was the way she had seen him last year, their sixth year. He had looked tired, pale, sallow – nothing like the cocky, arrogant and healthy boy he had been the previous years. Maybe it was how Harry had described the way he had broken down in Myrtle's bathroom. Maybe it was Dumbledore's last words to Malfoy. Whatever it was, she found herself doing something completely mental – she found herself thinking that she might go.

It only took a little bit more overanalysing – only half an hour more – before she realised she had already made her decision.

|| This is a line break :) ||

"Where are you going, Hermione?" Ginny Weasley was standing in the kitchen of the Burrow, patting her hair dry with a big, blue towel. Her clothing – some old Quidditch robes – were drenched in mud, and she was making quite the puddle, but she didn't seem to notice.

"Have fun playing Quidditch?" Hermione asked brightly, ignoring the question. She toed some black boots on, pulling them up at the back as she hopped on one foot. Her face scrunched up as she tried to fit into them, and she decided she'd need to buy some bigger ones later. It was strange, really, how she still seemed to be growing at the age of eighteen (or nineteen, if you counted the time-turner years, which funnily enough, those who knew never did).

"Yes, I did," Ginny smiled. "Got to the snitch before Harry. I always knew I was the better Seeker. But you didn't answer my question." She looked pointedly at the other girl as she began peeling off the robes.

"Oh," Hermione laughed, slightly uneasily. "I'm just going to get some more books in Diagon Alley. You know how bored I've been, cooped up here lately. Plus, I need to finish Christmas shopping." She didn't know why she lied, but somehow, she couldn't see Ginny reacting well to her meeting up with Draco Malfoy, especially in the current atmosphere.

"Really? Are you sure you want to go today? It'll be nicer out tomorrow, last I heard from the Weather Witch. It's raining cats and dogs out there." Although the comments were made casually, Ginny's worried expression gave her true motives away.

Hermione completely understood Ginny's concern. She should have been in her seventh year, but with Dumbledore dying and Harry having no clue as to what the next Horcrux was, it had been decided that it would be better for them all to remain at the Weasley's home, which was protected by a strong Fidelius charm, performed by Minerva McGonagall. Hermione had fought against this with all her heart, as she had wanted to finish her education and complete her NEWTs, but on this matter, her opinion mattered little.

That wasn't what worried the redheaded girl, though. It was the fact that the general atmosphere in the Wizarding community was getting tenser, and that more anti-muggleborn activists were coming out of their shells. There was speculation by some members of the Order that the Ministry was becoming so corrupt that it would soon fall into Voldemort's hands. No one wanted Ron, Harry or Hermione (the latter two foremost) to be seen out and about in the public, where they could be easily snatched and taken to the Dark Lord.

"No, it's fine. I really would like to get it done soon. Christmas is only two weeks away, Ginny, and I still need more time for my lessons with Remus." That was the thing that had gotten her to quiet down about the lack of Hogwarts education. Remus Lupin had offered to tutor her in seventh-year Charms, Runes, Arithmancy, Potions, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts. They weren't all his strong points, Potions in particular, but Hermione was grateful.

"Well then, you ought to wait until the Order is back from Grimmauld, Hermione. I'm sure anyone would be interested in escorting you. I'd come, only I've got to do some stuff for mum, or she'll get real mad at me," Ginny replied, sounding more pleading than before. "You know what's been going around on the Wireless. You can't go out alone. It's dangerous."

Hermione wanted desperately to roll her eyes, but she knew the younger girl was only interested in her welfare. "Listen, Ginny. I'll be fine. Really." She put her hand up to stop Ginny's protests. "It isn't open for discussion, I'm afraid. If you argue more, I might just have to give Ron that two-year _Which Broom?_ subscription I'd bought for you."

Ginny's face suddenly grew excited, and her jaw dropped. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Fine." Ginny pouted. "Go do your shopping. Just don't be surprised when I send someone after you, when they all come back."

Hermione let a relieved smile bloom on her face, thankful that Ginny wasn't going to give her more trouble. She knew it would've been harder had Ron or Harry been there, but as they were at Grimmauld with the others (she hadn't wanted to go to the meeting, in favour of reading up more on Horcruxes), she didn't see anything standing in her way. It was fine that Ginny would send someone to follow her. They wouldn't see her anyway; she'd be in Knockturn Alley.

|| This is a line break :) ||

"I didn't think you'd show up."

Sitting in front of her, at a table in the furthermost corner from the entrance, was one haggard-looking Draco Malfoy. For a second, Hermione didn't even register what he had said. Instead, she gaped openly at his appearance.

He had dark bags under his eyes, his pupils were dilated, his eyes blood-shot. He was pale, his hair looked messy and he looked nothing like the well-kept boy from before. It was even worse than sixth year. He looked physically sick, and even a little fragile, and she wondered what had happened to make him look so.

"Enjoying the view, Granger?" Malfoy smirked, and although it sounded almost empty (or even fake), there was still a hint of the old arrogance in there. It comforted her, for some odd reason. Shaking her head slightly to clear her thoughts, she cast a glance around at the inhabitants, who were all of the shady sort, before pulling up a chair across from Malfoy.

"I'm guessing this isn't a trap, then?" Hermione said casually, cautiously. Malfoy scoffed.

"If it was, Granger, you'd be dead by now."

There was a pause, in which Hermione stared at the table, trying to wrap her head around Malfoy's new image. Was Voldemort so bad that the boy who cared so much about reputations didn't even take care of his appearance? It must have been bad to urge the Malfoy heir to ask her, a Mudblood.

"Why me?" she implored when there was no conversation forthcoming. Malfoy, who had been merely looking at her, raised an eyebrow.

"Why you what?"

"Why me? Why did you contact me?"

"Are you really that stupid, Granger? Of course I contacted you. You were the most likely to give me a chance to explain."

Hermione ignored the insult. "And what exactly do you need to explain?"

Malfoy was silent.

"I can't help you if you won't tell me anything," Hermione stated tersely.

"I'm thinking about how to say this, goddammit, Granger! Let me think for a second."

His face was twisted in a genuinely frustrated expression, and it was only this that kept her from replying with a biting retort. She bit her tongue.

A few minutes passed, and she looked around the pub, noticing the details of her surroundings for the first time. It was a dirty, old thing, nothing she'd ever usually step foot in. Perfect for this kind of clientele, she supposed. The mugs looked half-washed, the food looked unappetizing and there were crude posters on the wall. In the opposite corner, an old man leered at her, showing her a gapped grin. She shuddered, and after that, resorted to tracing the grain of the table with her finger.

"I'm going to die."

The words were said hoarsely, abruptly. Her head snapped up, and she looked with wide eyes at the man sitting across from her. His head wasn't turned in her direction; rather, it seemed like he was staring intently at a poster to his right.

"I'm going to die," he repeated, "if I stay with that monster. He's angry at me, see, because I didn't kill Dumbledore last year."

"Why would he kill you for that?" Hermione gasped. She was tempted to cover her mouth with her hand, but thought that Malfoy would find it too melodramatic. She wondered unconsciously when she had decided to care what the blonde-haired man thought. "Dumbledore-" She seemed to run out of air for a moment, and tears were brought to her eyes at the memory of the old Headmaster, before she blinked and continued, "-died. Snape killed him. Why would Voldemort punish you for something that went ahead anyway?"

"You don't understand his ways, Granger." Malfoy's hand, the one that rested on the table, clenched. "He doesn't care about the results as much as the method. If someone fails a mission, he sees it as weakness. As it is, the only thing stopping him from killing me as soon as he lays eyes on me is Severus' word."

"Snape?" The idea that the Potions master would do anything for anyone else was a foreign concept to her. Her own hands clenched, the anger she had thought buried at the man's betrayal rising to the surface again.

Malfoy nodded, noticing her fury but not commenting on it. "Severus convinced Voldemort that the old man managed to disarm me before I could kill him. The Dark Lord only believed it because he's seen firsthand how powerful Dumbledore is, and how weak I am." He spat the last words with venom, and looked like he was about to bang his hand on the table, before he controlled himself, gritting his teeth. "I want to join the Order of the Phoenix."

There was a shocked silence. "How do you know about the Order? It's supposed to be a sec-"

"Severus."

"That evil, little, traitorous bastard! Why, I'll kill him next time I see him-"

"Can you do it?"

Hermione stopped her tirade, coming back to the present conversation. She was immediately shaking her head. "I don't think so, Malfoy. It's not that I don't believe you; it's that the Order members would never accept you. Half of them still believe it was you who killed Dumbledore. I only know because Harry told me."

"Potter? What does Potter have anything to do with this? How does he know?"

"That's not important," Hermione said firmly. "The point is, as soon as you walk in the door, you'd be killed before you could say 'it wasn't me'. People are still outraged, and they want blood."

"Then what am I supposed to do, Granger?" Malfoy near yelled, tugging angrily at the ends of his hair as he jumped up. "What am I supposed to do when he orders me to kill someone? To Crucio someone? Or face the consequences, which will probably be the death of my parents?"

"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed. She stood and grabbed his wrists in a tight hold, yanking him down roughly to his chair. "You're making a scene!"

"I don't bloody well care, Granger! I'm about to be killed, I know it, along with my parents, and I can't stand it…I can't stand it…I can't…" And suddenly he was sobbing into his hands, his elbows propped up on the table, and Hermione was frozen, staring at him.

For the first time, Hermione truly realised the emotional state Malfoy was in. He was on the verge of having a complete breakdown, and she didn't know what to do. She had never realised how terrible Voldemort was. Sure, she knew he was a horrible man; he killed people, he tortured, he was insane. But she was seeing firsthand how awful he really was – he had reduced one of his own followers, a dignified, arrogant man who believed all his propaganda, to a sobbing mess. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was sincere.

Awkwardly, she stood and walked to his side of the table, wringing her hands. She only got a half-second of thought, to think about the consequences of her next actions, before her hands were moving of their own accord to snake around him. He stiffened as well as he could, but he couldn't stop the tremors racking through his body.

"Shh," Hermione murmured. "It'll be okay. I'll help you. I'll do whatever it takes to help you." It was very awkward trying to hug him from the back, and she only just managed to stop herself from cringing at what she thought this would look like from an outsider's point of view. "I'll talk to the Order, okay? I'll talk to them, and I'll make them see that you're good. We'll find you and your parents a safe hiding place where no one will find you, and we'll come get you at the end of the war. Shh…" She had no idea if she was overstepping her boundaries, promising this to a Death Eater and his family, but she didn't regret it. She felt him slowly relax, and the shaking gradually lessened until he was still once more.

He didn't say anything, but she felt it was the end of cuddly-time anyway, and she stepped away from him and moved to sit on her side of the table, glaring at those who had been watching the scene unashamedly.

"Okay, now that that's settled," Hermione said briskly, acting as if nothing had happened, "is that all you had to say?" He didn't voice it, but she knew he was grateful for not harping on about his emotional moment. Instead, he replied, although his voice wasn't the normal smoothness it usually was.

"Yes, that's all I had to say. When do you think you'd be able to do talk to the Order? We should meet up again to discuss further action. I'm sure you understand when I say I'd like this to happen as soon as possible."

Hermione thought about it for a second, before giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I don't think I can talk to them until after Christmas. There's bound to be a heap of fighting going on about this, and I don't want to ruin everyone's Christmas with arguments." She looked truly regretful.

Malfoy didn't look too happy about it, but he gave a curt nod, expecting the answer. "I'll see you after two weeks, then. Have a merry Christmas."

Standing outside the pub five minutes later, she wondered if the thing that had surprised her the most out of that meeting was his parting greeting.

|| This is a line break :) ||

"Hermione!"

_Uh-oh,_ she thought. Alarm bells started ringing in her head loudly, as she took in the murderous expression on one Ronald Weasley's face. Harry Potter trailed after him, also frowning.

She had left Knockturn Alley only a few minutes ago, and was walking down the main road of Diagon Alley, intent to do what she had told Ginny she would. She was on her way to the bookstore, although her mind was not completely focused on the task at hand. Thoughts of her meetings with Draco Malfoy still kept running through her head, cramping her thinking space and making her head feel too small.

Ron stalked to her, face flaming red. There was no warning before he grabbed her wrist roughly and Apparated out of Diagon Alley, taking her with him.

Hermione was, for a moment, too stunned to do or say anything as they reappeared at the Burrow, in the kitchen. "Ron, what are you _doing?_" she almost screeched when she had regained her sense, trying to shake his tight hold on her forearm. She could practically feel the skin bruising. "Let _go_ of me! What's wrong?"

He didn't answer, staring at something behind her, and it only took her a few seconds to turn around and realise what it was. It was now that she noticed that it was completely silent in the house, and that all the occupants, as well as half the Order, were crammed in the small kitchen, watching at her. Ginny was at the forefront, face red with anger, and now that she looked, she noticed the rest of them were looking at her with expressions ranging from worry to confusion to rage.

"Ronald, let Hermione go!" Molly Weasley's voice broke the tense silence, and Ron let her go, flinging her arm away disgustedly. Hermione was hurt, and confused. "She does not need to be manhandled by you! I'm sure the dear can explain herself."

The confusion grew. "Explain myself, Mrs. Weasley?"

"That's right!" Ron spluttered before his mother could reply. His face was red with fury. "Explain yourself! Where were you? Why did you leave the house without telling someone?"

"I did tell someone," Hermione replied, growing upset by the second. Why was Ron yelling? It wasn't like they actually knew where she was, and even if they did, it wouldn't make him this angry…so why didn't she tell them in the first place? "I told Ginny."

"You _told_ me?" Ginny laughed, and the sound was cold, humorless. "You told me, Hermione, that you were going to Diagon Alley to get some books and to finish buying your gifts for Christmas. You didn't tell me you were meeting a _bloody _Death Eater!"

**|| Author's Note ||**

So how was it? :D I know it wasn't much of a cliffhanger, but I had to cut it somewhere, or this would have been a bit long. I don't really plan to write 20 page chapters if I can help it.

Anyway, if you liked, review and tell me, and I might continue!

Love, Coretta


	2. Chapter Two

**|| Amnesia ||**

Written by _Coretta_

**|| Chapter 2 ||**

For a moment, there was silence, and all Hermione could do was stare at them. How did they know? She voiced the thought, and winced when Ginny replied, "You left it on your bed."

"I was going to Diagon Alley to get those things," she said weakly. "The gifts and the books. Malfoy was just…there."

Ginny's face warped. "Wait, the Death Eater you met was _Malfoy_?" she shrieked. "As in, _Draco Malfoy_?" By the look on her face, she hadn't known that little fact. Hermione wondered how she could have missed it, what with the big crest and the initials, but perhaps she had been too upset about her meeting a Death Eater to notice them.

"And I suppose you just _strolled_ into Knockturn Alley, did you, Hermione?" Ron growled. "You just walked into a shady pub and just _happened_ to meet Malfoy?"

"No, I didn't-"

"You're digging a deeper hole for yourself." Remus' voice was soft, but firm. She hadn't noticed him there. "Just tell us the truth. Did you have a meeting with Malfoy? An intentional one?" He didn't want to think she was capable of betraying them, but it went to show that it could happen to anyone.

Hermione looked strained. "Yes, but only-" Why weren't they letting her speak?

"Why did you meet him, Hermione?"

"He- he needed my help."

"Your help?" Ron shouted, cutting off whatever Remus had been about to say. "A Death Eater wouldn't want your bloody _help_, unless it was to get Harry's head handed to them on a silver-" He stopped suddenly, and his face twisted. Harry was looking at him, and he seemed to know what he was thinking.

"No, Ron, don't think that, it can't be-"

"Are you defecting, Hermione?" His voice was icy. "Are you switching sides? Are you going to become a turncoat?"

Her eyes widened, and she looked at the adults pleadingly, wondering why they were letting Ron, Ginny and Harry question her. When help was not imminent, her eyes moved back to Ron.

"You can't _seriously_ think that I'd-"

"We don't know what to think." The voice of Nymphadora Tonks came. "You were meeting my cousin. Alone. Without telling anyone."

"Please, _please_ believe me," Hermione begged, feeling her eyes stinging. "_Please_. I didn't do it. I…if you need it to believe me, give me Veritaserum."

She didn't want to do it. There were a million things she wasn't ready to admit to them – nothing horrible, and nothing that would put them in jeopardy – but they were things that were only for herself. One slip of their tongue – one impulsive question from Ron seizing the opportunity – and she'd be spilling her deepest secrets. It wasn't a position she'd usually allow herself to be in, but…she knew they were serious. They seriously suspected her. She didn't really want to believe they'd think that of her. It _hurt_ to that they'd think that of her.

Harry was looking at her with what she could only describe as sadness. "Hermione, you don't have to. We won't force you to. If you-"

"She consented, let's do it!" Ron said, riding over Harry's voice. "Anyone got some? Tonks? Shacklebolt? You need it for questioning in Auror business, don't you?"

Shacklebolt rose, having decided that Ron's time playing interrogator was up. "Ron, don't be hasty. Let us deal with this." He gestured to himself and McGonagall, as well as Tonks and Lupin.

"I don't think so." Ron was shaking his head. "We found her, we question her!"

Hermione could feel anger bubbling inside her now. His reaction was…stronger than she had expected. "Ron, please, calm down." She tried to say it as serenely as she could, but her voice wavered.

"Don't tell me to calm down! You're betraying us!"

That. Was. It. "Ron, how could you even _think_ that, let alone voice it?" Hermione demanded, her voice on the verge of a scream. "You _know_ how much I've put into the Order. You know that I would do anything to see the Light win. That I would do anything to keep Harry alive. Going over wouldn't accomplish _anything._"

Ron couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he settled for glaring. Hermione itched to hex him for stabbing her in the back (yes, that was what she thought of this), and could only barely hold herself from doing it when she looked into Harry's eyes and saw he was genuinely upset. The questioning had smoothly turned into a battle between her and Ron, and she had no more wish to continue it. Shaking her head in disgust, she muttered, "I'm going upstairs." With a crack, she was gone before anyone could say anything.

|| This is a line break :) ||

An hour had passed, and she had spent the whole time sobbing. She was still crying. How could they believe she would betray them? Ginny and Harry were her best friends. Ron had been her boyfriend, for a few months. She was close to most in the Order. Had she ever done anything that could cause any doubt to be cast on her? They should have _known_ by now what she was like, that she was loyal to the core. So loyal that she would die a million deaths, rather than turn her back on those she loved.

In that one hour, there had been at least three knocks on the door, two of which she recognised as Harry's. She ignored them, only reinforcing the heavy locking and silencing charms. She'd have to release them soon because Ginny shared the bedroom, but at the moment, she didn't think she'd be able to spend another day in same house with the other girl, let alone the same room. She wanted desperately to go for a walk and to clear her head, but it was snowing too heavily.

Night fell soon, and she finally remembered why she was in this predicament anyway: Draco Malfoy. She _knew_ she shouldn't have gone. Now, she couldn't ignore what he had told her. His life was on the line. She couldn't allow him to be killed, because as much as they had hated each other in school, he was still another human being who didn't deserve to die.

Well, it would all be sorted out tomorrow. They were going to give her Veritaserum, she was going to tell them she was innocent and everything would be back to normal – she could tell them about Draco, then, and convince them to help. Yet she knew it would never be normal again. She felt enormously let down by everyone, and after this was all over, when they were all good again, she knew she wouldn't be able to put her full trust in anyone anymore.

And then, although she hated to think it, she wondered why, when they had found out she was meeting a Death Eater, they didn't seem concerned at all about her health, only that she might have let something about the Order slip.

That depressing thought in her head, she released the spells on the door, laid her head on her pillow and went to sleep.

|| This is a line break :) ||

"Morning." Her voice was flat as she greeted the people at the table, intentionally leaving out the 'good'. Most of the people there were prominent Order members, and looked like they didn't know what to think about what had happened yesterday. Ron was fuming still, sending dark glares at her. Ginny looked frighteningly neutral, and Harry sat beside her, giving Hermione that same miserable glance.

"Oh, good morning, dear." Mrs. Weasley was bustling towards her, ushering her into a seat. The room was unnaturally quiet, considering the number of people there were. "Here, Hermione, have a good breakfast. We've got a big day ahead of us." She tried to smile at the younger woman, but it came out like a grimace. "Have some tea." She pushed a china tea cup into Hermione's hand, and, avoiding her eyes, hurried back to the kitchen. Hermione stared after her.

After a few seconds, she turned her attention back to the table and saw that everyone was looking at her, watching her. She tried to ignore it, but she had never had to deal with this kind of attention before, and she nervously took a sip at her teacup. She noticed too late that her hand was shaking and that Ron, Ginny and Harry in particular were watching the cup's ascend to her mouth.

She really should have expected it, after their assumptions and behaviour last night. She was growing careless. Thank goodness she knew the subtle difference between tea and tea with another substance mixed in.

"Which one of you spiked my drink?" Her voice was eerily calm. She looked around, her gaze resting on each person. "_Who did it?_"

It was obvious when she scrutinised Ron that it was him, because he was fidgeting and looking down. He knew he had been caught out. Hermione stood from the table, her wand in her hand. That was the last straw.

"Ron, when they've asked me all the questions they need to, and they find out I'm innocent, you will regret doing this. You've just broken the last shards of trust I had in you," she said icily. She was surprised to see him looking remorseful now; it usually took him much, much longer to figure out that whatever he had done was the stupidest thing he could have done. She didn't feel pity for him, however. Throwing a silent stinging hex at him, she began walking away. "Since it's already been administered, whoever is going to interrogate me," she threw over her shoulder, "you can follow. I'm not feeling too hungry anymore."

She heard a few chairs scraping as their occupants stood to follow her, but she didn't wait or look. How could Ron do that to her? She had consented to Veritaserum, but she didn't think they were going to go about giving it to her behind her back! And Molly, Harry and Ginny, they had been in on it, too. Probably the whole damn Order. Damn Ronald Weasley.

They reached the living room, and Hermione promptly strode in and sat herself down. It was then that she got a good look at those who were questioning her. Remus, Tonks, Shacklebolt and McGonagall. The leaders of the Order. The ones who had taken over after Dumbledore had died. She felt a slight breeze behind her. "Can we shut the window?"

Shacklebolt, who was clearly the leader here, inclined his head. "Of course, Hermione." It was good to see he could still address her informally. It gave her a bit of hope. _He_, at least, didn't believe she would betray them.

She took out her wand and shut the window behind her, locking it in the process. She then shut and locked the door to the living room, startling the interrogators, before gripping her wand by the tip and offering it to McGonagall. The older woman looked at her sadly, and took the wand.

"I'm sorry we have to do this, Ms. Granger," she said softly, before returning to her position.

"Hermione, we're going to do this exactly like a proper interrogation," Shacklebolt said, before they started. "Which means anything you say can be used in the case against you. A formality, you see." He conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, tapped the quill with his wand and set them on the table. "This will record everything you say."

Hermione nodded. "Get on with it, then."

"I'd also like to ask that you refrain from saying anything that is irrelevant to the answer of the question I am asking you. If you struggle to do this, I will need to place a spell on you. We cannot be distracted from the questions."

Another nod.

"What is your name?"

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"What is the date today?"

"December 9, 1997."

"What is your birth date?"

"September 19, 1979."

"How old are you in years?"

"Nineteen." They paused, and she could hear McGonagall murmur to Shacklebolt about what she could only assume was her year with the Time-Turner.

"Why did you leave the Burrow yesterday?"

"To buy some books and Christmas presents and to meet with Draco Malfoy."

"Which was the most predominant reason?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Why did you not tell anyone about this?"

"I did not want anyone to stop me."

"Why is that?"

"I didn't think they'd let me go."

"What did you discuss with Draco Malfoy?"

"We discussed his position in the Death Eaters." All four of the interrogators exchanged a glance, one that didn't look too good to Hermione.

"Elaborate."

"We discussed what Voldemort wanted to do with him." She was aware that she wasn't giving them as much information as she could have, but she was struggling to keep the fact that Draco was going to die to herself. She didn't want to reveal that until she was going to talk to the whole Order, when they could all discuss it. They'd probably help Voldemort do it, anyway.

"Did you mention the Order of the Phoenix at all?"

"Yes."

"What exactly did you say?"

"I said that I'd talk to the Order, and then bring him and his parents to the Order." They exchanged another glance, and she was growing frustrated. She wanted to tell them that it wasn't how it sounded like, but she couldn't say anything more if it wasn't relevant. Why weren't they asking the right questions?

"Have you scheduled another meeting with him?"

"Not formally, but we have to meet after Christmas."

Shacklebolt nodded and scooped up the parchment and the quill. "Wait here, Hermione. We've finished the interrogation, but we'll have to leave in order to discuss it. The Serum should wear off in twenty minutes, but I suggest you don't leave this room unless you want to talk to anyone else." They left, shutting the door quietly behind them.

Hermione definitely didn't want to go out there where Ron, Ginny and Harry were. Sighing, she knew the chances didn't look too good for her. They had asked precisely the wrong questions! She'd have to get another person to come in and ask the _right_ ones.

Suddenly, there was a rustle behind her, and she was immediately up, scrabbling for her wand before she realised McGonagall still had it. She cursed. "Who's there?"

Another rustle, and then Ron was removing Harry's invisibility cloak from his person.

"Ronald, _what _are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I had to see it for myself." Ron's eyes were dull and angry, and almost frightened Hermione. "It sounded a lot like you betrayed the Order. What was that? 'I'm going to bring him and his parents to the Order.'"

"What I meant was, they-"

"Stop talking, Hermione." With a flick of his wand, she was silenced. Hermione was outraged.

"_Ronald!_ How can you do this?" But nothing could be heard coming from her mouth.

"You know too much about the Order, Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head. "I had initially come in here to wait until they were gone, so I could apologise to you in private about the Veritaserum, but now I know it was the right choice to make, giving it to you." He had an incredibly dangerous look about him now, and Hermione's eyes darted to the door and the window, before she realised she had locked both of them. Shacklebolt had probably locked the door after he had left, too. How was she going to get away from- "_Incarcerous._"

Ropes snaked their way up Hermione's arms and legs, and she fell to the ground, unable to balance herself. Ron smiled. "You know, Hermione. I'm always shunted to the side. Harry's the Boy-Who-lived, you're the Boy-Who-Lived's brains. I'm...well, the only one I've heard is the Boy-Who-Lived's chess player. Now, though, it'll change, because I'm going to get rid of one of the traitors to the Order. My own best friend, no less. My ex-girlfriend. I'll be a hero, the one who saved them from their biggest threat yet. Those Death Eaters were some sly dogs, getting someone so deep into the Order and with so much information to come to their side." He raised his wand, and Hermione's eyes could only widen before he muttered, "_Obliviate._"

Her last thought was that she had never known Ron was this much of a jealous prat, before she was spinning, down into the blackness.

**|| Author's Note ||**

My my, it's another case of Gilderoy Lockhart. ;c What did you think of that? Ron is such a git, isn't he (sorry to all you Ron lovers)?

Kudos to whoever can guess what's going to happen next. ;) And a small mention to Darkshadow-lord, who figured that Ginny would find the note in Hermione's things.

Reviews are appreciated! And they also encourage me to write faster, because feeding my ego makes me happy, and being happy makes me write. :D

Love, Coretta

P.S If there are grammar or spelling mistakes, please let me know! 3


	3. Chapter Three

**|| Amnesia ||**

Written by _Coretta_

**|| Chapter 3 ||**

She woke up with an absolutely filthy headache, and the bright light in her eyes did _not_ help at all. Oh, why did she have to wake up? At least she wouldn't be in agony.

"Hermione? Are- are you alright?" A voice. But whose? It sounded like a female…an older female. Who was Hermione? Why were they asking this Hermione about her health, when _she_ couldn't even open her eyes because of the pain?

"Hermione? Hermione?" More voices were joining the first voice, a mix of young and old, men and women.

"Will you stop asking about bloody Hermione? I'm in pain here," she suddenly snapped loudly and she finally opened her eyes to find a whole crowd of people standing around a wooden table – a wooden table that she was currently lying on. And they were all staring at her.

"Hermione?" The speaker was a man with graying hair and a shabby coat. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

"Who are you?" Her voice was sharp, and she felt a stab of fear all of a sudden. There was a strange man – a strange _old_ man – asking about her, and she didn't even know him. She tried to not let it show. "Who is Hermione, and what is that _thing_ you're pointing at me?" Her eyes were fixed on the strange stick in the man's hand. It was long, and thin, and it looked very dangerous. "Do you intend to hurt my eyes some more by poking me with it?"

"What's wrong with her?" a raven-haired boy asked worriedly, anxiety plain in his emerald eyes. He was gripping a redheaded girl's hand. "_What's wrong with her?_"

"Are you talking about me?" she asked, indignant. "Because I'm in this room, you know, and I have a name. It's-" She stopped. What was her name? For some reason, she couldn't remember. When she thought about it, she couldn't remember much of anything. Not who these people were, why they were concerned about her, who she was. Now, she was _very_ frightened. What had happened to her?

A million thoughts went through her head. _What is my name? I…don't know. What is my age? I don't know that either. How can I get away from these people? The door?_

Her eyes wandered over to the door on the left, before moving to the door on the right. She pondered her chances of getting out of here without any of these odd people trying to restrain her, and decided it was slim to none. Fine, she had another plan, anyway. She'd go along with whatever they did, and when they had her backs turned, she'd make a run for it.

"Who…are you?" she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. "And who am I?"

"Oh, I'm going to _kill _Ronald!" a stout, pudgy woman with fiery red hair hissed. "You poor dear." The woman sent her a pitying look and laid a hand on her bicep. It didn't feel very nice, so she shook it off.

"Could you just answer the question?"

The woman stared at her, before shaking her head, seemingly to clear her thoughts. "We are-"

"We're your friends," the raven-haired boy said quickly. "I'm Harry, and this is Ginny." He tugged the girl's hand gently, and the redhead looked up. She had previously been staring at the ground, unable to look at her friend.

"Hi," Ginny said softly. Something told her that she didn't like this Ginny.

"And who am I?"

"You're Hermione Granger."

"I am, am I?" Like she would believe him. She had no reason to trust them at all; she didn't know who they were and why she was still on this wooden table. "Alright." She nodded. "Um…can you give me a moment to clear my head? It's kind of uncomfortable, with all of you staring at me." She forced a blush.

"Oh, of course, Ms. Granger," another woman with a stern look in her eyes replied. "We'll let you have a few minutes to yourself." She lowered her voice and said to the dark-skinned man next to her, "We must decide what to do with her. Obliviates of this nature are…almost impossible to reverse. We'll most likely have to use the newspaper." She very nearly rolled her eyes, because she could hear the woman clear as day, but restrained, a clueless look on her face. The stern woman straightened up, and barked, "Everyone out!"

The people shuffled away, sending her a whole diverse range of glances, and she wondered why so many of them had been there when all they did was stand and watch ad give her dirty looks. Then, she was left to herself. She spent a few minutes thinking about what had just happened, before she realised that time wasn't slowing down for her and that it was her chance to leave. 'We must decide what to do with her…' It didn't sound very promising.

She stood up from the table and glanced at the door they had gone through, before closing it quietly. The other door looked unlocked and she quickly made her way over to it and pulled it open. Poking her head out of it, she saw that it led to the outside. Perfect.

"Where are you going?"

She froze. Dammit, _so_ close to freedom. Turning around, she saw it was that Harry boy. "Hey, how did you get in here?"

"I opened the door." Her neck gave an audible crack as she turned her head to see the door ajar.

"Oh."

"So where are you going?"

"Um, nowhere."

"It looks like you're going somewhere."

"I just...needed some fresh air."

He looked at her doubtfully. "Yeah. Well, we've come to a decision, Hermione. We're really sorry about what Ron did to you – not that you'd remember who he is or what he did – but…we can't really keep you here. We're going to take you to your parents'."

That gave her pause. "My parents?"

He gave a noise in the affirmative. "The people who gave birth to you. Essentially, they've looked after you since you were born. You live with them in a big house near Wiltshire."

Wiltshire… why did it sound so familiar? It gave her a sense of foreboding, and she felt like the name should be ringing warning bells. But why? "Um, thanks for the offer and all, but I'd rather stay here, thanks."

He gave her a strained look. "Don't make this harder than it is, Hermione. You can't stay here." He changed the subject. "See this?" He pulled out a stick similar to the one the creepy old man had been waving around. "This is a wand." A memory stirred in her mind, giving her a feeling of satisfaction, but no matter how hard she tried to retrieve it, she couldn't access it. It frustrated her beyond belief. Sighing, she nodded.

"Alright. That stick is…a wand." The word felt strange in her mouth, yet at the same time, just _right_. "And what does it do?"

"It does magic." Using the stick – the _wand_ – he murmured something, and a ceramic plate came zooming to his head. Just before it crashed and gave him a concussion, he stopped it and Vanished it. "Like that. You and I are witches and wizards, so we can use wands, but Muggles – people who have no magic – can't use them."

"Hmm. Where's my wand? Can that wandget rid of headaches?" She could feel it coming in full force with all these new revelations. Parents, wand, magic…

He ignored her first question. "No, but we have a potion for that." With another mumble, a little bottle came flying into the room and he caught it with quick reflexes. She didn't comment on them, and when he handed her the potion, she downed it in one gulp, before realising she probably shouldn't have taken something from him so readily, seeing as they were practically strangers. She was about to say something when she looked into his eyes – those bright, green eyes – and another memory stirred, this time washing over her a feeling of…how could she describe it? Love? It was warm, and fuzzy, and…she felt like she could trust him, even if she didn't know why.

Her headache was clearing away rapidly, and she gave a relieved smile. "Thank you. So, um…Harry, right?" He nodded. "Are we…are we friends?"

He didn't answer right away. He had turned his back on her, so she couldn't see his face. After a few minutes, he turned around and gave her a soft, sad smile. "The very best." He began moving towards the door. "Now let's go, we need to take you to your parents."

She nodded, not catching the suddenly somber mood he was in. They were best friends…why didn't he want her to stay then? Was she not a good friend? Was that it? Or was it that redheaded girl? Did _she_ not want her to stay?

He led her down a thin corridor. She looked around curiously at her surroundings; everything was frayed, damaged or threadbare, but instead of making the house look like a dump, it only gave off a homey feel. They passed a wall filled with pictures – moving pictures – that contained people she could only assume were the ones living here. There was the pudgy woman, dancing with a man…that girl who held hands with Harry; in that picture, she had her arms around Harry, and they looked quite happy…two twins, grinning mischievously…a boy who looked quite pompous, smirking with a badge that said 'Bighead boy'…a man with a fang earring and long hair, standing with a man who had burns all over his hands, but was smiling brightly anyway…and the last one, a boy, redheaded like all the others, his arms around two people. One, she recognised was Harry; the other, she didn't recognise at all. "Harry, that's you, isn't it? Who's the boy in the middle?"

Harry stopped walking and looked back curiously, before seeing what she was looking at and frowning. "That's…Ronald."

"The boy who people keep saying did something to me even though I can't remember what it was?"

"That's him."

"Who's the girl, then? On the left?"

"That's…that's you, Hermione."

Her eyes widened, before narrowing in disbelief. "No, that's not me, Harry. Don't lie."

At her words, his right hand twitched, and she barely saw some thin, white scars. "I'm not lying." With a flick of his wand, he conjured a mirror, and was handing it to her. "Have a look."

Keeping her eyes on him the whole time, she grabbed the mirror and almost screamed at what she saw. Her hair made her look like she had been electrocuted, she was very, very pale, she had dark bags under her eyes, her eyes themselves were bloodshot…but she could still recognise the little girl in that picture staring back at her. "We were…friends?" she whispered, looking up, not wanting to look at her reflection anymore. She handed the mirror to Harry, who Vanished it. "And yet, he hurt me? How did he hurt me? What did he do to me?" More memories were trying to reach the surface than ever, but for some reason, she couldn't access them. She growled, and he watched her, warily.

"He was trying to protect me," he said. "And he hurt you in the process." He turned and began walking again. She could tell he was lying or keeping something from her, she could _feel_ it. If they were best friends, why would he lie? Something was wrong here, something was very wrong.

They stopped at a big, heavy mahogany door, and Harry rapped three times on it with his knuckles. It swung open, and Hermione was led into a dark room that held only five people. The stern woman, the dark-skinned man, the creepy old man, the pudgy woman and Harry's redhead girl, Ginny.

"Harry, what took you so long?" she exclaimed, throwing the tiniest of dirty looks towards the other girl. "We were about to come out and get you two!"

"Oh, just…answering some of Hermione's questions," Harry replied, shifting uncomfortably.

"Nothing about…?" the dark-skinned man began, and Harry shook his head. About what? What were they talking about?

"Alright, then, that's settled. Hermione, Harry's told you we're taking you to your parents' home, yes?" the stern woman asked and Hermione nodded.

"I'd much rather stay here, though. Are you sure it isn't possible?" She needed to find out more about herself, and something told her that, although it was against logic, her parents weren't the best people to ask.

"We're sure," the stern woman replied. "Magic may worsen your condition. Now, Harry has also explained about magic?" She nodded again. The woman handed her a rolled newspaper, and she figured that was the newspaper they had been talking about before. "This is a Portkey, made by magic. In five minutes, it will activate, and you need to be touching it. It will take you straight into your parents' home. Under no circumstances are you to leave your home. No circumstances at all, until…until everything is over. There are people who would like to hurt you. We will send a Healer to your home to check on your condition, do you understand this?"

"Yes, I do, but-"

"All of your belongings are here, in this trunk." She handed her a miniature thing that looked a bit like a box. "It will automatically un-Shrink once you have arrived at your home. We have already explained what has happened to your parents." The Portkey began glowing. "Hurry now, Ms. Granger. Your finger, place it on the Portkey!"

"Alright, alright, I'm doing it. Now, can you tell me, where is my wan-?"

But then she was gone.

|| This is a line break :) ||

The first thing she did when she landed was spill the contents of her stomach all over the timber. Moving with that…that Portkey was dreadful, it made her stomach turn, she felt sick. Coughing, more vomit was spilled, until she could heave no more.

"Hermione! Darling, are you alright?" A woman, an older woman, one who smelled like apples and flowers, came forward to pull her hair away from her face. "Oh, Hermione. I've always known that magical travel was never good for anyone." She produced a satin handkerchief, and began wiping the sick from the corners of her mouth, not caring that it was soiling it.

"Elizabeth! Is that her? Has she arrived?" There were heavy footsteps, and then a pair of big, strong hands were pulling her upwards and supporting her. "Hermione! What happened here, Elizabeth?"

"She just appeared in the middle of nowhere and got sick," the woman said, sounding worried. "Oh, Richard, get her a glass of water, will you? I'll hold her." The man left hurriedly.

Elizabeth was interrupted as she tried to hold her up with her soft, dainty hands. "I've missed you so much, darling." She buried her nose in the girl's hair, and all she could do was stand awkwardly in this uncomfortable position.

"It's alright, I can stand." She coughed, and for the first time, lifted her head to see a beautiful woman standing by her. The woman had sleek, brown curls and warm honey eyes, and was dressed like a lady of title. Her eyes widened. "Are you- are you my mum?"

The woman looked horrified at her question. "What did you say, dear?"

"I asked…if you were my mum?" She was startled when the woman burst into tears, collapsing onto a leather sofa just as the man came in with a glass of water. He was tall, handsome enough, with a friendly looking face, but it twisted when he saw Elizabeth crying.

"Oh, what's happened now?" He handed the glass of water to her, helping her to drink it, while he talked to Elizabeth. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"She-" Elizabeth hiccupped. "Richard, she asked me if I was her _mother!_"

The man, Richard, gave a sigh. "I think we should have a talk. This is much worse than we expected. Hermione, come on, sit beside your mother on the sofa. We'll clean this all up later."

Hermione went to sit beside Elizabeth, feeling a bit uncomfortable. If she actually _was_ her mother, why was she crying? Did she wish she wasn't?

"Alright, Hermione," Richard started, "the reason your mother is upset – yes, she is your mother – is because you don't remember her. The people who had warned us of your arrival only told us you had had an accident. Obviously, it's much more than that. And before you ask, yes, I am your father." Hermione, who had been about to ask that very question, snapped her mouth shut, before another question popped in her mind, and she opened her mouth again.

"Before we begin, can you just tell me…is my name really Hermione Granger?"

Her father gave her a short nod.

|| This is a line break :) ||

Over the course of the next few days, Hermione learnt more about herself, realising that she had lost her memories. She learned that when she was younger, her favourite book had been James and the Giant Peach, and that her mother and her had daily library trips. She learned that she didn't like to dress up, that her favourite Halloween costume over the years had been the first one she had assembled herself – a witch, oh the irony – and that she hadn't had many friends.

When she had asked about Harry, Ron and magic, her parents had been unable to tell her anything. Apparently, after she had turned eleven, she had gradually decreased communication, until there was no contact at all. Her parents were Muggles, and knew next to nothing of Hermione's 'other life'.

She thought about magic often. She had wanted to ask about her wand before she arrived at her house, but she had disappeared before she could. Her hand felt empty all the time, and she thought it might be because she was supposed to have a wand there. When she was alone, and thinking of anything, sometimes random thoughts drifted into her mind. Once, the words 'Avada Kedavra' had appeared, and it had made her shudder. Another one, 'Wingardium Leviosa', brought up the image of Ron, and her hands itched to swish and flick.

On the second day of her stay there, she began exploring the house. It was much bigger than she had expected, three stories high and quite wide. Her parents were dentists, but they must have been good ones to become so wealthy. She discovered a library on the second floor near her parent's bedroom. It wasn't very big, but it had lots of books, and when she went there, she felt right at home. She didn't know why, but books made her feel safe, loved. When she was bored, she came here, and her parents learnt that, should they be looking for her, the first place to check would be there. She went through book after book. Memories were brewing in her mind, more than she could imagine, and she decided that she really liked reading.

One morning, she looked outside the window of her bedroom and saw that it was a bright, sunny day – perfect reading weather. After having breakfast, she told her mother that she was going to sit in the gazebo at the front of the house to read. Her mother consented, reminding her to bring a hat should the sun become too warm, and she almost skipped outside with _Jane Eyre_ and a glass of lemonade. She didn't know if she had liked romance novels before, but she enjoyed them very much now.

Sipping her lemonade, she turned the page, feeling serene, when suddenly, her lemonade exploded, showering her with shards of glass and liquid. She stood up quickly, some awakened reflexes kicking in, and she felt like she should be taking something out…but what? Her book? It dawned on her that maybe she should be taking out a wand, but she didn't have one now.

Leaving everything there, she began sprinting across the front lawn, desperate to get inside the house. Stupid, _stupid_ Hermione…hadn't the stern woman told her not to leave the house? _Come on, come on,_ she thought, as the door came closer and closer…

She froze, feeling something hit her in the back, and then fell backwards, hitting soft grass. She tried to move, but she couldn't, she could only blink and move her eyes. Footsteps in the grass approached, and then a man was squatting beside her, poking her face quite roughly. He had dark robes on and a bone white mask, and she could only tell he was a man because of the enormous bulging muscles peeking out from under the sleeves. She was terrified.

"Well, well, lookie here, boys. Seems we've caught us a little Mudblood snack. And not just any, too. It's Potter's Mudblood!"

There was a shout, and a cheer, and a whistle. Hermione hoped her parents would hear and come out and save her…she was so terrified…what would they do to her? And _Potter's Mudblood_? Who was Potter? What was a Mudblood?

"Come on, girlie." The man's gruff voice grated her ears, and he hauled her over his shoulder easily. "We're taking you away. Oi, boys? Where's the closest headquarters?" He yelled the last at some men who were standing at the edge of the estate.

"Malfoy Manor, sir! We're near Wiltshire!"

Wiltshire…_Malfoy_…the word gave her chills. Why?

"Hmm, alright then. Mudblood, you should be honoured, we're taking you to meet the Malfoys." He gave a cackle, and then turned with a crack.

Elizabeth Granger looked out the window, only to see her daughter disappearing with a big, robed man.

**|| Author's Note ||**

Haha, see what I did there? Hermione's gone to the Manor! :D Oooh, wonder what Draco's reaction is going to be when he sees she's gotten herself in a right mess. Quite the packed (and quite long) chapter, I think, and I was going to make it two separate ones, but I wanted to get this all out so we can start the actual story already because I didn't want this to drag out. Plus, you guys have been amazingly responsive, and I didn't want to make you guys wait too long for Hermione to go Dark! It'll be soon, guys!

Featured reviewer: Zombie Reine

Thanks so, so much for the reviews; I really appreciate them, especially Zombie Reine's one, which was a bit (a lot) more than a paragraph and which was quite informative to me. I love to read long reviews, whether they're full of praise or critique, so hit me up with 'em!

What did you think of this? I'm sorry this took longer to post than the other chapters, I had a bit of trouble getting this to come out the way I had it in my head. X3 Everything looks better in there, plus I have no idea how people that have been obliviated act, so I tried as best as I could.

On another note, I'm tired and my muse isn't quite here. I think it's the overload of Backstreet Boys music I've been listening to (yes, yes, I know they're outdated and overrated). All of this Pop music is frying my brain.

Love, Coretta

P.S As always, if there are any grammar/spelling mistakes, please let me know so I can go right ahead and fix them!


	4. Chapter Four

**|| Amnesia ||**

Written by _Coretta_

Just a little warning: there's a bit of physical violence in this chapter.

**|| Chapter 4 ||**

"Ow! Get off, you freak!" Hermione screeched. The big man had his hands clamped tightly around her arms, and she knew she'd be getting some bruises. His robed friends were moving around them with a swagger, looking for all the world as if they were the cats that had gotten the canaries. "Ouch! You're hurting me, you know!"

"Aw, little Mudblood can't take a bit of pain?" one of the robed men asked mockingly, before laughing. "Too bad, Granger; you're gonna feel a hell of a lot of it when the Dark Lord gets a hold of you. Ooh, he's been waiting for this a _long_ time; when he'd finally have the little girl who helped Potter elude him so many times. You're gonna get it!" He looked gleeful.

"Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione snarled. "Who is Potter and who _the_ _hell_ is the Dark Lord? What kind of a name is that, anyway? I bet he plans to take over the world and turn the human race into his own personal slaves. That's it, right?" She snorted, remembering a book she had read on her first venture to the librry. She didn't know where all this bravery was coming from; based on what she had read in various fictional stories, girls who were kidnapped like this usually ended up as rape victims, and in the process of their abduction, usually screamed, flailed, tried to bite their captors and then cried, before being assaulted, left for dead, finding their way home and leading the rest of their lives as asylum residents.

Another of the robed men growled. "Why, you little brat!" He lifted his hand and, before she could try to do anything to stop it, cuffed her across the cheek. There was laughter, and she groaned, before spitting out a wad of blood. Too late she wished she had spat it at the man, instead.

"Careful, boys," said the big man, "don't want to bloody her up too much before the Dark Lord gets his own retribution. He'll want to hurt her for being so mouthy." He traced the outline of her lips with a filthy finger. "Don't play clueless now, girlie. It won't help you. We all know who you are." The feather light touch stopped, and he brought his hand down in a hard smack.

They reached a pair of tall, wrought-iron gates that were impressively intimidating. Through them, Hermione could see an enormous building; it was dark, and gloomy, and was as menacing as the gates. A long drive connected the gates to the building, and alongside the drive were high hedges that she imagined would make her feel claustrophobic. Peacocks – albino ones with feathers that shimmered in the sunlight – strutted the hedges. _How ostentatious of these Malfoys,_ she mused. _And very out of place, considering the depressing atmosphere they've created with the house and the gates._

All but the big man were startled when a face, frightening, threatening and ominous, formed in the gates. It seemed to stare them down for a moment, before saying in a voice that was neither male nor female, but rather metallic and loud, "State your intentions!" Hermione expected that if gates could talk, this was what they would sound like. She shuddered. Her heart was beating abnormally quickly now.

"We've got Potter's Mudblood!" the big man bellowed. "We've come to bring her to Our Lord."

There was an instant of deliberation, before the gates swung open with purpose. The big man grinned down at them all, face alight with anticipation. "We're gonna be rewarded richly, boys. I won't be surprised if tomorrow I've a house of gold and women on either side of me!" He gave a nasty chuckle, and the other men joined in. Hermione's face twisted in disgust.

He resumed the process of dragging her to their destination, and she decided to stay silent until she could find a way to get out of this situation. She didn't know how to fight properly, but she could bite, kick and punch. They had wands, though, and she wasn't physically strong.

She flinched as the big man's hands wandered to her chest, and tried to kick him. His chest rumbled as he chuckled.

"Little Mudblood doesn't like men touching her," he jeered. "How modest of her. Hear me, Mudblood. By the time you're through with the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters and then the streets, you'll have no modesty left." He purposefully smacked her thigh and she yelped, face going red. At that same moment, they reached the front door of the enormous Manor. It swung open, revealing a tall, thin, sick-looking man with blonde hair and grey eyes. His eyes scanned the party disinterestedly, until they came to rest on her. She saw his eyes widen with recognition and panic, before he resumed his indifferent expression.

"You said you have Potter's Mudblood?" he said emotionlessly.

"Well, you seen 'er, 'aven't you? She ain't invisible!" one of the men said. "Right there!"

"And?" the blonde man replied, raising an eyebrow. "How do I know she isn't a Polyjuiced imposter?"

"You don't, Malfoy," the big man said, "but we can guarantee you we just plucked her from her own parents' house!"

"Damn easy to get her, too," another one of the robed men said, "Reckon those Mudblood lovers are getting a little sloppy with their handiwork, eh? Hopefully we catch that little traitor Weasley soon, the little girlie." He licked his lips and bared his teeth. "Damn pretty one."

The other men roared with laughter, and Hermione wanted to spit in their faces. The name sounded familiar, though…was it that girl at the other house?

The blonde man, Malfoy, stared them down with a sneer. "I'll take the Mudblood. Leave."

"Now, wait a second, little Malfoy," the big man interjected as Malfoy tried to grab Hermione's arm. "You ain't trying to kick us out so you can claim all the credit, eh? We got little Mudblood Granger fair and square, and we'll be rewarded as such." Although he was much taller than him, and could probably outmatch him in a fist scrimmage, the blonde stared at the man calculatingly.

"What reward were you expecting?"

The big man looked around at his companions. "A big house and women, like. The Dark Lord wouldn't begrudge us that for handing him this treasure, would 'e?" He patted Hermione on the head.

"I'll give you fifty thousand galleons each if you give the girl to me now," Malfoy replied coolly. "That should be more than enough to fulfill your lecherous desires." When the man looked like he wanted to protest, he added, "That is the deal; take it or leave it. I daresay it is more than the Dark Lord would give you, for he has much more pressing things to spend his money on than some filthy men."

The men looked properly offended, and one looked like he was about to punch Malfoy's face, before the big man held his hand up. "Alright, we accept."

As the men began arguing with the big man, Hermione was pulled into the house by Malfoy and shoved out of view. "Stay here and don't leave my side," he hissed, before turning to the men outside. He said a few words that she couldn't hear that effectively silenced them, before continuing more loudly, "Come back here tomorrow and I shall hand you your money then." With those parting words, he slammed the door in their faces. Hermione flinched when he turned to her. The look on his face was murderous.

"How," he demanded through gritted teeth, "the _hell _did you get yourself caught by Death Eaters?"

She glared at him. "Who exactly are you?"

"Don't play jokes with me, Granger," Malfoy hissed, face filled with rage. Casting a glance around the Entrance Hall (which Hermione had only just noticed was absolutely beautiful and as ostentatious as the outside), he took out his wand and tapped her on the head. The horribly uncomfortable feeling of having an egg cracked over her head appeared, and when she looked down, she saw that she couldn't completely see herself. Only if she looked very closely could she see the faint shimmering outline of her legs and feet.

Malfoy's arm was still around her, and he abruptly let go. "Follow me," he whispered, shortly, before he began marching away from the front doors. They turned a corridor, and Hermione saw men stationed along it at equal intervals. They nodded at Malfoy, but he walked past them as if he couldn't see them. She tried as hard as she could to breathe softly and inconspicuously, in case one of them heard or felt it.

She was scared. This place made her feel scared. Malfoy made her feel scared. He was very, very angry with her, she had no idea who he was to her and for some reason, she felt like she was being led to her doom.

They turned another corner, and this one was strangely devoid of men. Malfoy led her to the end, where there was a big mahogany door. He whispered something to it, turned the knob and walked in. Hermione followed, and the door shut behind her.

It was a bedroom. She assumed it was his. It was tastefully decorated, the two main colours being black and white, but surprisingly, it had few pieces of furniture. There was a bed, a bedside stand, a large walk-in wardrobe, a desk and nothing else. On the other end of the room was a door that she thought might lead to a bathroom.

When she had finished surveying the room, she noticed that he was staring at her, that livid expression still on his face. Pointing his wand at the door, he didn't say a word, but she knew he was doing magic. There were a few tense moments, when he began yelling.

"WHAT THE HELL, GRANGER?"

Hermione recoiled from him. He was shaking, and his pale, pale skin was slowly getting redder. The man started towards her, and she backed up a few steps.

"YOU WERE MY ONE CHANCE. MY ONE CHANCE TO GET OUT OF THIS HELLHOLE, AND YOU JUST HAD TO SCREW IT UP, DIDN'T YOU? FREAKING MUDBLOOD!"

He kicked the closest wooden post of his bed hard, before slamming a fist into it. His hand turned red, and he did it again, this time getting a resonating crack from the wood. He didn't seem to notice when there was another crack, coming from his hand.

"DAMN MUDBLOOD! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET YOURSELF CAUGHT? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING? BLOODY HELL!" He gave an angry snarl and moved towards her again. She was frozen, petrified. He was so, so angry, and she was going to get hurt, she knew it.

"YOU'RE GOING TO DIE!" he shouted. "I'M NEVER GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE! I'M GOING TO DIE! MY FAMILY IS GOING TO DIE!" When she made no response, it seemed to make him more furious. "WHY DID YOU GET CAUGHT, GRANGER? WHY? ANSWER ME!"

She couldn't speak. She was dangerously close to tears, and she shook her head. He clenched his fists, nostrils flaring.

"SOME FREAKING HELP YOU WERE! WHY DID I EVEN BOTHER ASKING A MUDBLOOD? THEY'RE ALL THE SAME – THEY KNOW NOTHING, THEY CAN'T DO CRAP AND THEY'RE USELESS!" He wasn't screaming in her face now; instead, he was shrieking at the wooden bed post. Slamming another fist into it, he gave a terrifying growl. "SOME FREAKING HELP YOU ARE!" he screamed again and stalked to the door at the far end of the room, opening it, entering then slamming it.

It was silent. Shaken, Hermione tried to arrange her thoughts.

Tears began leaking out of the corners of Hermione's eyes, but she wasn't scared anymore. She felt pity towards him, and anger at herself. It was ridiculous, really, because at the moment, she had no idea what he was talking about, but his words…she had deduced that she was meant to help him in some way, and that she had failed. Her failure had sentenced him to death, apparently, and that was why she cried. He seemed so upset, and she couldn't do anything to help. She didn't know why she was here.

Making her way to the door he had disappeared through, she pressed her ear to it, but couldn't hear anything. She hesitated, before knocking on the door. A few minutes went by, with no answer. She bit her lip, wondering if she should try once more. Would he blow up at her again? He might actually hurt her, this time. But…it looked like he needed someone. It might as well be her. And he might be hurting himself. Straightening, she knocked again, and this time it opened.

Malfoy looked stonily at her. Her eyes looked down at his fist, which looked perfectly normal now. "We need to talk," she said softly, and he nodded. He came out and followed her. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, before he spoke first.

"I…apologise for losing my temper," he said stiffly, looking anywhere but at her. She nodded.

"I don't know who you are. I mean, I know that you're 'Malfoy', but I don't…know who you are," she ended lamely.

He looked up, and although his expression didn't change, his eyes hardened. He thought she was mocking her, she could tell. She quickly kept going.

"I've- I've lost my memories, you see. All I know is that I'm Hermione Granger, and I like to read books, and…and, that's it, really. But I've failed you in some way, haven't I? I'm so, so incredibly sorry for that." She looked distraught.

"I…see." Malfoy was looking at her skeptically. She knew by the little crease between his eyes that he was still very angry at the moment, but he was trying to calm himself down. "Is there a way you can verify this? Perhaps this is some silly trick the Order has put you up to."

"The Order?" she asked confusedly. "What's that?" She ignored the faint stirring in the back of her mind.

He sneered. "Very convincing. If you truly have lost your memories…there is a way I can find out."

"Do it," she said immediately, and he was taken aback by this blatant show of trust. He nodded and took out his wand, before looking her in the eyes. She probably should have been cringing away from him, but in that moment, she didn't know if she could.

"_Legilimens._"

An uncomfortable feeling swept over Hermione; it felt like someone was trying to fit themselves into her head. _Only one of us can fit in here_, she thought irritably, and she could feel the foreign thing being pushed out.

_Let me in, Granger_, said a voice firmly, and she recognised it as Malfoy's. It felt so unnatural, so violating, but she forced herself to let him in.

All her memories flashed across her eyes, and it didn't take long, considering she didn't have many. They worked from the present back, and she watched as Malfoy yelled at her, as he lead her down corridors, as the robed men dragged her up the path, as she was reading outside her house, as she was introduced to her parents…he – she – _they_ seemed to linger on the memories after she had woken up for the first time, then it was all black, and then they were walking down a corridor she had never seen before. It was richly decorated, and the walls were crimson. Torches with flames lit the way, and at the very end was a big metal gate. They couldn't see past it, except through the small hole right in the center. They saw flashes of orange, flashes of green, flashes of purple through it…but nothing they could make out. Abruptly, the foreign presence left her mind, and Malfoy opened his eyes across from her.

"Those sly bastards…" he breathed, eyes narrowed. He had a knowing look upon his face that she didn't particularly like.

"Who?" she asked curiously. He shook his head.

"I need to talk to someone. Stay in here. Do. Not. Leave." Without a backward glance, he walked out, leaving her to contemplate what she had seen.

**|| Author's Note ||**

Hey guys! Malfoy's lost his last hope, and can you say 'poor baby'?

So, so sorry for the long wait for this chapter; I've been really busy, and in between trying to figure out how my new phone works, school starting and all these new classes I'm taking, I haven't had much time to update.

This was also a pretty crap update, I know, and I'll try and make it up to you guys, even though my writing has been suffering as of late. This is more of a filler than anything, and I'm sorry about that.

I was going to put Voldy's meeting with Hermione in this chapter, but prolonged it because I wanted some opinions. o3o Snake or human Voldemort? I love both, and am willing to write either one.

I've had a few reviewers point out to me that placing Hermione at her home in the middle of the war is one of the stupidest things the Order could have possibly done. I actually have some motives behind this, but you guys probably won't like the reasoning. Please keep in mind that I don't expect the Order to be soft on anyone in this war (even people they trusted so explicitly; in retrospect, I'd think that would heighten the betrayal in their minds), and that I imagined they'd be almost as brutal as the Death Eaters to traitors (yes, this is all in my mind).

Everything in the previous chapter implies that they've decided she was a traitor (I'd hoped that you guys had deduced that for yourselves, but if not, please tell me so that in future chapters I can make everything clearer/more obvious), and I imagined they'd treat her as such. Because she's been Obliviated, though, she doesn't run much risk against them because she has no memories. They aren't going to risk her getting close to them again, however, and place her at her parents', knowing full well that Death Eaters are watching the house. The reason behind putting her there is this: assuming she is a traitor, they put her there so that _she will be killed_. Yes, it sounds inhumane, but everyone does things they wouldn't normally do in a war. The Death Eaters take Hermione from her house, bring her to Voldemort, Voldemort decides that she's no use to him anymore with no memories and no information on the Order and WHAM! Dead Hermione. No threat to the Order, everyone's a happy camper. Completely cruel, right?

As for what happened to Ron, I'll let you guys imagine that for yourselves. Personally, I'd have loved to see Mrs. Weasley throw a complete fit and then lock him in his room or something for all eternity.

Featured reviewer: Skittymon

That being said, all your reviews were absolutely lovely. Thank you for all the feedback! In particular, I enjoyed reading Skittymon's review. Besides making me laugh a bit at the beginning of it, it raised questions that I thought I'd answer and also did give me a bit of an idea with the part about Luna and Neville. Thank you!

One more thing. I don't particularly like the title of this story; I had only chosen it because at the time, I had no inspiration for the title. This is just a warning that I might be changing it sometime in the future, just so you don't get surprised.

This Author's Note is gigantic O.O Almost a page. I didn't think it'd be this long, so I'll just stop talking now.

Love, Coretta

P.S. As always, if you could include any grammar or spelling mistakes you see at the end of your review, it'd be much appreciated! :)


End file.
